


Tell the Truth and Shame the Devil

by DeskGirl



Series: RotG Undercover Noir AU [4]
Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Noir, Body Horror, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Gore, Serial Killer, Undercover, Undercover AU, Undercover Missions, Violence, noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeskGirl/pseuds/DeskGirl
Summary: They're playing a dangerous game, the two of them. If Kozmotis isn't careful, he could lose everything he holds dear. There's no way out of this and only one way forward: raise the stakes even higher.Undercover Noir AU: Kozmotis Pitchiner is an undercover DEA agent working with notorious serial killer Jack Frost to bring down a major drug ring.Part 4 of the Noir AU series inspired by KS_Claw
Relationships: Kozmotis Pitchiner/Lady Pitchiner, Pitch Black/Lady Pitchiner
Series: RotG Undercover Noir AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1039184
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Tell the Truth and Shame the Devil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KS_Claw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_Claw/gifts).



Kozmotis walked down the poorly lit park path that ran alongside the river. The cool air kissed his face, a relief after the heat and heady atmosphere of the strip club.

This time around, Kozmotis had been forced to sit in the cramped, noisy club for over an hour before his contact, “Golden Muse,” was able to meet with him. The data card of information about Bunnymund’s recent weapons acquisitions burned a hole in his pocket the entire time. Kozmotis had begun to develop a headache by the time he was done.

The pulsing ache at his temple didn’t distract Kozmotis from the fact that someone was following him. They were hanging back, trying to act casual, but he wasn’t fooled.

The park path ran under a bridge up ahead. Kozmotis slipped into the shadows and waited. It didn’t take long. As soon as he vanished out of sight, his tail rushed to catch up.

The man that appeared was a brute, easily as tall as Kozmotis but carrying at least a hundred more pounds of sheer muscle, mostly in his arms and barrel chest. Dark eyes danced in a face otherwise obscured by messy hair and a thick beard. This was no tail; men like this weren’t hired to find people, they were hired to make them disappear.

Kozmotis stepped out from his hiding place. “Looking for me?” he asked. Standing under the bridge, his voice echoed back hollowly.

To his credit, the other man recovered from his surprise rather quickly. Too quickly. Kozmotis found himself on the ground as the man tackled him with a roar, thick hands wrapping around his throat.

Years of training kept Kozmotis from bashing his head into the concrete, which would have ended the fight right then and there. That did little to change the fact that he was being strangled, though.

Fingers squeezed down on his jugular as Kozmotis struggled to get any kind of leverage. Any tighter, and his neck might just snap. Kozmotis’s lungs burned as he scrabbled, first at the other man’s hands and then trying desperately to claw out one of his eyes. The man leaned back out of reach.

The moment his attacker shifted his weight, Kozmotis took the opportunity to grab his wrists and twist under his grasp. He managed to get a foot up on the man’s thigh and kick himself sideways. The grip on his neck loosened. Kozmotis followed through, bringing his leg up around the man’s arm and wrenching it down into an awkward position, fully breaking the choke hold.

Kozmotis sucked down a ragged breath, pained tears blurring his vision. He couldn’t stop now. If he stopped, he’d die.

He landed a couple kicks to his attacker’s face, but he just didn’t have the strength to hold him in position. The other man broke free with a shout and stumbled back.

Kozmotis rolled to his feet and pulled the gun from his shoulder holster.

The man stood still with his back to Kozmotis, his posture awkwardly stooped. Then he let out a choked, wet sound and collapsed, revealing the eerily pale form of Jack Frost.

Kozmotis hesitantly lowered his gun. He really shouldn’t be surprised; Jack had a knack for these dramatic entrances.

“Didn’t expect to see you here. I appreciate the help, but I had it under control.” Kozmotis was immediately betrayed by a short bout of coughing. He used a sleeve to wipe at his eyes as he cleared his throat.

There was something… off about Jack. His expression was tense, his brow furrowed. He didn’t throw out any clever quips as he knelt down to retrieve a penknife from the dead man’s throat. He wiped it on the corpse before gently—almost lovingly—folding it and tucking it away.

“Jack,” Kozmotis called.

Jack straightened, sighed, and pinned Kozmotis with a frigid, analyzing look. It was an expression Kozmotis had seen before, but never directed at him.

“Who is she?”

There was only one person that Kozmotis could think of.

Not her. Please not her.

Kozmotis’s heart slammed in his chest. He could almost feel the hands around his throat again.

“Who?”

Jack’s brow pinched, then his mouth twisted into a sneer. “Don’t act stupid. It’s a bad look on you.”

“Ah, you mean the stripper.” Kozmotis tried to sound casual. He shrugged and put his gun away. “I like how she dances, and she likes how much I tip. That’s all. You can’t blame me for not wanting to tell you, considering your reputation.

“I’m curious how you found out about her; I can’t imagine they let you through the door with that baby face.”

Normally, Jack might have found that funny. He didn’t laugh this time.

“Do you remember what I told you the night we met?”

“You said a lot of things that night.”

“I told you to play by the rules.”

“There’s no rule against strippers.”

“No one’s supposed to know about me.”

“She doesn’t know about you. She doesn’t know anything. She’s nobody.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Jack’s sickle was in his hand in an instant, plucked from where it hung at his hip. It curled down in a frown to match Jack’s own.

“I’ve only seen her twice. It’s nothing,” Kozmotis reassured.

Jack’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He nodded to himself as he fished in his jacket pocket with his free hand. “Twice is a coincidence.” He pulled out a photo. “Three times is a pattern.” At that distance and in the shadow of the bridge, it was hard to make out details, but Kozmotis recognized the picture.

It was his favorite photo of him and Ebony at the Kingston Municipal Rose Garden last spring. They were sitting together on a stone bench with yellow roses in full bloom at their backs. Ebony had her hand in his, and they were both smiling through laughter. He didn’t remember what had been so funny, but he cherished that look in Ebony’s eyes. He’d proposed to her a few months later in that very garden.

But Kozmotis didn’t have that picture with him; he had brought nothing of his own with him when he went undercover.

“Where—?”

“Her apartment.”

Never before had two such innocuous little words chilled Kozmotis to the bone. He gaped, scrambling to recover.

“To her credit, she kept it in her floor safe. With her police-issue handgun. I wouldn’t’ve thought to look for a safe except, well, I’m nosy like that. Plus, the high-end security system was a tip-off. She played everything else by the book. I couldn’t even find a name. Which brings me back to my first question.”

While Jack spoke, Kozmotis’s mind raced. There had to be a way out of this. Or—

Or a way deeper in.

“You asked me who she is,” Kozmotis responded haltingly, an idea forming. It was a deadly gamble, but Kozmotis knew the stakes, and he knew his opponent. His heart tattooed a feverish rhythm in his breast as he made his decision.

“She’s Lieutenant Ebony Centaurii. She volunteered to be a liaison to securely pass information between myself and law enforcement. She doesn’t know about you, though. I kept my part of the deal, so don’t think you can change the rules on me now.”

Jack made a ‘tsk’ noise. “I can change the rules whenever I like—”

Kozmotis cut him off: “And I’ll tell you something else. You’d find out anyway, I mean the picture makes it pretty obvious, but I’ll save you the trouble: she’s my fiancée.”

Jack’s eyes went wide, caught by surprise. “Now why would you tell me that?”

“Because you’re not going to lay a finger on her.”

Jack let out a chuckle, then a sharp, wry laugh that jumped up into a childlike peal of delight. “Look who’s making the rules now. I hope you know that no one gives me orders and gets away with it.” He shook his head, smiling. “What makes you think that I’m going to do anything you say, officer?”

“Because,” Kozmotis said, with an air of absolute calm that he didn’t feel, “if anything happens to Ebony, I’ll quit the game.”

“What?”

“I’ll go to the Man in the Moon, I’ll tell him who I am and what I’m doing, I’ll hand over all of my evidence, and I’ll tell him you’re alive.”

“That’s—he’ll kill you.”

“That’s the idea, Jack.”

Jack looked confused, then visibly upset. “But—that’s not—you can’t just do that.”

“I can, and I will.” Kozmotis crossed his arms. “You see, Jack, on undercover missions like this one, it’s adapt or die. You’ve commented on it yourself. Turns out I have a real knack for figuring out other people’s fears. Everyone in the organization, they’re suspicious, backstabbing, envious, prideful, but most of all? They’re afraid. Every single one of them. All of their other weaknesses stem from that small, terrified, primal thing at their very core, and there isn’t a single person who doesn’t suffer from it.” Kozmotis pointed at Jack. “Even you.”

Jack tensed and bared his teeth. “They’re not even in the same league as me. And I’m not afraid of anything! Do you want me to kill you? Is that what this is?!” His voice climbed as he brandished his sickle.

Kozmotis was in very real danger now, but he also recognized that Jack was losing his cool, which was a sign he wasn’t in control anymore.

“Come on, Jack, you’re too smart to get away with playing dumb.” Kozmotis put on a thoughtful expression, ignoring how the adrenaline sang in his veins. “Unless you aren’t playing. Maybe I’m the only one that sees it.” He let his words hang in the air, taunting. “Do you want to know what you’re afraid of, Jack? Do you want me to tell you?”

Jack didn’t answer, but he didn’t lash out either. In fact, he stood so perfectly still that it seemed as if he wasn’t even breathing.

Kozmotis took that as a yes.

“You’re afraid of being bored.”

Something subtle shifted in Jack’s expression. Shock. Vulnerability. Perhaps his own suspicions confirmed.

Kozmotis continued, “You told me to remember what you said the night we met. Well, I did, and I remembered something else. You said you were tired. That you were trying to distract yourself, and that all of this,” Kozmotis swept his arm out to encompass the two of them, the dead body, and the sickle held between them, “is you having fun.

“I think I get it now. You’re the smartest person in any room you walk into, but everyone always underestimates you. No one can ever keep up. It must be frustrating. You try to entertain yourself, but no matter what you do, no matter how thrilling or engaging it is, you get bored eventually. You have to keep finding new, more exciting things to try. More dangerous games. Tougher opponents. Greater risks. That’s how the killing started, isn’t it? Or at least, I’d be willing to bet that’s a part of it.

“You can’t stand to be bored, can you?” He knew he should stop there, but something small and angry curled in Kozmotis’s chest, urging him on. “Or maybe it’s that you can’t stand to be by yourself. Maybe you just hate being alone.”

“I’m always alone,” Jack said coldly. His grip on his sickle tightened. “Except for Emma.”

“I thought about that, too,” Kozmotis said. “When you kill, that’s you and Emma playing, isn’t it? Which explains why your M.O. is always so different from victim to victim: you have to keep playing new games because even now, even with Emma…

“Face it, Jack. It’s not that you aren’t afraid of anything. It’s that you’re afraid of Nothing. Nothing different, nothing exciting, nothing happening at all, nothing to distract you from whatever it is you try so hard not to think about”—

Something sharp and dangerous passed across Jack’s face before settling in his cold, blue eyes.

—"which is why you’re going to guarantee Ebony’s safety. Because if anything happens to her, even if it isn’t your fault, I’ll stop playing.”

Jack bared his teeth. His whole body tensed like a cornered predator as his breath escaped in harsh pants. Finally, fury boiling over, he let out a devilish scream and turned his sickle on the corpse at his feet, the curved blade sinking deep into cooling flesh. Jack pulled the sickle free and swung wildly again and again and again.

“Not fair!” Jack screamed. “It’s not fair!”

Kozmotis watched the gory tantrum with a terrified sort of fascination. That could have been him. It still could be.

Blood spattered the pavement as the sickle swept out and up and down again. Something in the corpse’s neck had severed, causing the head to hang loosely, and its arm had nearly come away at the shoulder.

“Cheater!”

Jack’s blade flicked sideways and swept from neck to waist, splitting the corpse open. Kozmotis couldn’t see from where he stood, but he heard something wet hit the cement.

Panting, Jack straightened and pointed his sickle at Kozmotis. “You’re a cheater,” he hissed. Fat drops of blood spackled his cheeks.

Kozmotis held up his hands placatingly. “Jack,” he said softly, “there’s no need to be so upset. It’s not like I won the game or anything. We’re still playing, aren’t we? I just raised the stakes is all.”

Jack faltered. “Don’t speak to me like I’m a child,” he snapped, but there was a note of hesitancy in his voice.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Kozmotis said. “Think of it like this, though: If anything happens to Ebony, it’s an instant-lose condition. That means I have to be more careful, and you have to keep track of more pieces on the board. The game is harder, and the stakes are higher, but that just makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?”

Jack looked thoughtful. He regarded his sickle, twisting it back and forth between his palms so the distant streetlamps danced across it even in the shadow of the bridge.

“I should kill you right now, cut out your tongue, and mail it back to the DEA,” Jack said coolly, speaking more to himself than to Kozmotis. Then something shifted, and he was his usual calm, smiling self again. “But I have to admit, you really did surprise me. You’re more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

Jack nodded to himself. “Yes… Yes, all right, Lieutenant Centaurii is safe. I won’t allow any harm to come to her so long as you keep playing. But you’re going to have to make this up to me.”

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? I waaaant,” Jack mused, “one of Toothiana’s trophy teeth.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Nothing. That’s not the point. I just want to see if you can get one, and it’ll be fun to see how Toothiana reacts,” Jack said gleefully. “That’s my price. I’ll give you, hm, two weeks? I think that’s fair, don’t you? Get me the tooth, and I keep helping you.”

“Fine. Consider it done. There’s still one thing to address, though.”

“Oh?”

Kozmotis pointed at the corpse. “Someone sent him after me, and when his body is found slashed to ribbons, they’ll know I’m not the one that killed him.”

“Ah. Hm.” Jack regarded the body like a pile of laundry he’d forgotten to deal with. “I suppose I did get a little carried away.” He flashed a pleasant smile at Kozmotis. “I’ll clean it up. Call it a freebie.”

“I appreciate that,” Kozmotis said awkwardly.

“By the way, that was one of North’s men. Not sure if you saw the tattoos while you were busy being strangled. You’ll want to watch out for him. He’s usually not the cloak-and-dagger sort; he prefers public fights to the death with a cheering audience. You must be rising in rank pretty quickly to make North this nervous.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jack waved him off, and he took that as his cue to leave. As dangerous as he knew it was, he turned his back to Jack and started walking.

“She really is something else,” Jack said, musing. Kozmotis glanced over his shoulder.

Jack was crouched over the corpse, eyes like ice chips peeking up through pale lashes at Kozmotis.

“Oh?”

“Risking her life going undercover just to help you. Just to see you. I don’t know if that makes her brave or reckless, but I think I like her either way. You’re a lucky man.”

Somehow, Jack’s affection felt more threatening than his ire. Kozmotis swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Thanks.”

Jack glanced away, and, freed from his piercing stare, Kozmotis left as quickly as he could while still appearing casual. Behind him, Kozmotis heard Jack begin to hum some old-fashioned tune.

The humming faded into the background noise of the city as Kozmotis made his way to the main road and hailed a taxi. Now he just had to worry about North trying to have him killed, stealing one of Toothiana’s prized possessions, and, oh right, the fact that a serial killer knew about his fiancée.

No problem.

Kozmotis climbed into the taxi and gave the driver instructions to take him to an intersection close by his apartment, then settled back against the worn black leather seat.

Kozmotis wondered how, exactly, he was going to get himself out of this mess. At the same time, a part of him knew that he wouldn’t. There was no winning this game. Not for him.

But maybe, if he played his cards right and used the organization’s fears against them, he could make sure everyone else lost, too.

Including Jack.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a Christmas present. It is now solidly into March. Uh, Merry Christmas, KS!


End file.
